Carnage Four Horsemen Novels & Stories

As it diminished, a huge eyeball with smaller ring looped eyeballs stared at the individuals, Rogue’s dead body along with an unconscious Shizuki and a sleeping Aqiel were dropped on the bed by Uriel, who sympathetically looked at Lucifer. Uriel's appearance infuriated Lucifer, she got out of Lilianith's hug and dashed to Uriel, her fists ready to pummel into him but she was stopped by Lilianith who shook her head hinting that it was a bad idea. Hades glared at Uriel and couldn't help by find something weird about his statement. “When you mean they, who are you referring to exactly?” “The four Horsemen of Apocalypse. They are the enforcers of order and would do anything to uphold the order h

His muzzle peeled back from fangs longer than my fingers, a roar tearing from his throat that shook the very stones beneath my feet. He leaped out of sight into the horde but my screams were buried beneath the cry of the horde shrinking away all of a sudden. And the horde scattered like leaves before a storm, before regrouping like a rushing ride. It was useless, it was clear as day that the four were only buying rime before the inevitable happened. Before we were all stomped to death and killed. Caius fought beside the archers, his golden fur matted with blood, his usual lazy grace replaced with lethal precision.

It was a suffocating wave of rot, dried blood, and ancient dust. ​Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the gorge. ​My breath caught in my throat. ​There weren't hundreds. There were over a thousand. The Crimson Court had emptied its southern covens. A sea of Ferals—grey-skinned, starved vampires with elongated limbs and needle-teeth—poured toward us like a plague of locusts. Behind them rode the True Vampires, aristocrats in dark armor atop skeletal horses, wielding whips of dark magic.

"What is your duty? To serve the Emperor's will! What is the Emperor's will? That we fight and die!"—chants from Warhammer 40,000 (videogame) (Content Warning—this chapter contains scenes of graphic violence and gore, reader's discretion is advised.) ** Ides of January, 41 AD The raw cry of—"Traitors!"—ripped through the torch-lit tunnel like a banshee’s wail. “Die!” SWISH THRUST “Urk—”

The air hummed with an unsettling energy so potent it made my skin prickle. Then, my eyes drifted down. My breath hitched. A lump rose in my throat, and I was pretty sure I shit a brick when I saw the four men who commanded the room, white-haired and broad-shouldered, oozing with unmistakable power. Worgens. They barked orders at a swarm of laborers, shirtless men of lean build with bold black rings around their upper arms. They were hacking at a large, bronze stone wall with jackhammers and drills. Sparks flared with each blow. The carvings there were too faint for me to make out.

I shivered, and I knew I should get out of there soon. I didn't want to look anymore. So, I turned back around and started walking away from the show. So, I got out of there quickly. But I didn't understand why The Four Horsemen' (what everyone calls Elijah, Jake, Andrew, and Matthew) got into Jason and his friend's faces? So, I didn't want to stay around to hear and see what would happen. But then again, I was curious about what would happen?

“We saw a scrap of material floating above his Hellhound and knew he had to be invisible. A few carefully aimed shots later, and he fell to the ground with an audible thump.” “We didn’t want to touch him without authorization,” added another, who sounded like he was part-snake. I clapped a hand over my mouth. Griff hadn’t checked his saddlebags. There were six in total, including the general, with their beasts of burden waiting at their sides. Two were white horses with manes of smoke, one was a black one burning red eyes with yellow flames for hair, and the other two looked to be some kind of rhinoceros chimeras that were shaped like triceratops. Then there was the fire-breathing drake.

Thwack. A rapid succession of gunfire came down and in a fraction of a second, all twelve of Ivanov’s men collapsed in unison, their blood spraying across the concrete as they hit the ground. The silence that followed was deafening. The warehouse floor was suddenly painted in dark crimson. “Zoya!”

Whoosh! “Great Mirror Spell! “Great Icebound Spell, Great Flame Spell, Great Gravity Spell, and the Great Claymore Spell!” Alex encircled the Fourcades, who came over with mystic arts, preventing them from escaping outside. After that, it was a massacre with asymmetrical strength. Blood. Corpses. Miserable howls. Self-destruction. The surviving Fourcades kept decreasing, and more and more died until there was no longer a surviving member of the Fourcade family in this world.

Even without the frenzied blood in his body, Kirin was just as crazy as Tyr, or perhaps even more so. In just the blink of an eye, both sides found themselves locked horn to horn as the battle of a thousand men began on the grounds of Summers Cemetery. There weren't many people involved, but the sheer might of the battle rivaled that of an ancient war between two massive military forces. It was just as grandiose and tremendous. Simultaneously, a few dozen cars began pulling over by the street next to Summers Cemetery. These were the official vehicles of Six Doors. As the doors opened, out came two hundred of their best fighters, followed by Chasing Wind, Zillion, and Pawn.